First thing, Honoka’s phone buzzed. The woman was surprised at the oddity, until Miaka pointed out a tall pole to the side of the stairs with antenna jutting from the top. The owl tossed bags of towels and cum over the side of a pit for the hungry dungeon’s desert, Honoka shrugging and checking her messages despite how weird her life continually grew into. It was Banda on the phone, wanting to get home and needing human feet to drive the van. Honoka nodded, typing a reply when she glanced towards Quinn.

“Hey, Furry Force, you ok?”

“Ya know, when Diane called me that two weeks ago, I hadn’t seen the videos.” Quinn smiled weakly while slumping to the ground. “I’ve seen ‘em now: not sure if I’m flattered or not.” She winced, pausing while leaning over for a pregnant minute before puffing frustration out and gulping acrid saliva. “And no, I’m not ok. I’d upchuck again if’n I had anythin’ left in me.”

“Should we turn back?” Honoka bit her lip, worried over the health of her amazing and strong wife laid out from nascent motherhood.

“I don’t think its that bad…” Quinn ruined downplaying her condition to lean over and dry heave drips of bile onto the metal ground.

“Hrm.” Honoka thought into the situation, weighing her phone and remembering what her uncle said about pregnancy and allocation. “Probably should have allocated all day, if allocation means you suffer less in the long term.” Looking over her Status, Honoka reached into a bag on Dolly’s back and pulled out two blue mana potions, popping the corks and chugging both. Now the Ymirian gagged beside Quinn, trying to keep the foul tasting elixirs down as she tapped out an SOS on the group text.

DEBQP
total buffet
2-4 hours
roaming charges apply

Honoka tucked away her phone, cracking knuckles, neck, then transitioning into light stretches. The other wives’ phones buzzed, announcing the break was over and Honoka was taking charge. The SOS was clear: five pregnant wives were about to lose any amount of allocation numbers from their Status for the next few hours and Honoka would be out of touch if there was a problem. Hopefully, everyone was next to their phones to receive the warning and able to remove any clothing they didn’t want to lose or get destroyed.

The young and typically shy Honoka was fine letting someone else lead: she had no ego to bruise and her wives were all fantastically capable women. Quinn ran the guild, Eve monitored the money, Banda and Diane had businesses, Padmava watched over the home, Miaka was in charge of security and it Dolly was on the road to recovery and would soon take over some other part of the family. Honoka didn’t have a place she really managed, she was just there as moral support. Or so she thought about herself.

All the wives knew something Honoka didn’t realize about herself. The slight half-Japanese girl had taken the impure tamahagane of her soul and forged it into hardened steel, the sharpest of blades. In her mind, she still thought of herself as an architect, an office drone without the simple courage to insist her manager let her have two days off work. She was no longer that person, and the woman married to her knew it. Honoka faced away from the trio, not seeing the collective grins as they relished this transformation into a woman brimming with purpose and confidence. Their beloved Hono-chan was truly the leader they all followed, despite what she thought of herself.

“What do I need to know about this Floor?” Honoka asked, summoning her Status and browsing through everyone’s menus.

“Maze of deadly traps, no monsters.” Miaka perched to Honoka’s right, pointing up at a hole among hundreds of holes in the tower of jagged metal. “There’s the fastest route to 272. Can’t tell you much more because the traps change every few days.”

“Don’t forget the FDR ticket,” Quinn said, handing a slip of paper to Dolly, who handed it to Honoka. “Lookin’ fer Class 4 or higher Transmutation Crystals, water aligned preferred.”

Honoka quirked an eyebrow, Miaka nodding and pulling out her phone. A few taps later, she showed a delving app running, the different types of TCs found in a dungeon on display. “Class 4 are crystals larger than a fist and generating over a thousand units of thaum. We have a thaumian reader in one of the bags. Water aligned are blueish and feel wet even if actually dry. On a trap Floor, we find crystals by locating the power source of traps and cracking it open. About a third of the traps we encounter should have Class 4 or higher TCs.”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.” Honoka slapped her hands and rubbed them vigorously. “Quinn, hop onto Dolly’s back and find some rope to tie yourself down with. Miaka will be on point, so she gets speed and strength. Dolly is rear guard , getting a hefty block of stats to prepare for anything. I’ll kinda work the middle and be ready to move stuff around. After we know what clothing will still fit, we’ll suit up and roll out.”

“Yeeeessss!” Miaka exuded, pumping a fist and shucking her clothing off, as excited as a dwarf about to sound the horn of Helm Hammerhand in the deep.

It hasn’t been easy, but Honoka slowly learned the rules of allocation in the last month. For instance, the Class Feature Mímir’s Draught allowed the Collector to micromanage what parts of each wife were allocated at a time. Although she hadn’t tested those limits, she’s found out changing each one of her toes into a different Racial toe led to an interesting discovery. The more she micromanaged, the heavier a drain on her MP. In essence, each individual allocation cost a set amount of MP. She also learned her Class was min/max broken if she allocated as much Intelligence and Wisdom as was available (thanks to a clever goblin), both Attributes in charge of MP pool size and how quickly MP regenerates. If allocating ten points of Wisdom cost her a one percentage of MP per minute, but the ten extra Wisdom increased her MP regeneration to two percent a minute, it allowed Honoka to make other allocations without losing equivalent MP.

“Diane and Eve will be the easiest, then add Banda’s Wisdom,” Honoka muttered to herself, feeling a twinge of headache to let her know she needed to hurry up. She also ignored the entirely different worry headache of taking away Wisdom from Banda while driving. “Speaking of Mrs. Cow Tits, need to human her so she can return home. Use Quinn for the rest of the points.” Nodding, Honoka grouped the right dials into three easy submenus and slid them to a hundred percent.

“Crap!” Honoka realized her predicament too late. While she warned the other wives to get undressed, in her effort to math everyone’s allocations, she forgot to strip herself. Frantically grabbing at her velcro straps, Honoka managed to shuck the armor plating off; however, she must have allocated too quickly, because wings caught on the back of the shirt while her breasts tripled in size, effectively pulling the peach T from both ends. In the next few seconds, even as her height shrunk to half, her wings and breasts grew faster, tearing the fabric apart.

*boing!*

For a moment, the binding wraps around Honoka’s breasts held firm, but then chocolate tits sprung free like toy snakes in a joke can of peanuts. Together with the remnants of her shirt, peach rags and white wraps fluttered to the ground as the rest of Honoka finished allocating. Despite Honoka shrinking under four feet (122 cm), her butt and hips plumpened like bread dough, straining sides of the shorts but only pushing them higher up her waist, which slimmed a few inches before the extra Strength kicked in and added it back with a sexy six pack.

“Grr, I wanted to enjoy that,” Honoka grumbled, typically reveling in expansion and changes brought by allocation, especially those involving a succubus. The added disorientation from a goblin’s sense of smell and their pain to pleasure Racial Feature distracted the succoblin woman as her nose picked up on the rust and dust in this part of the dungeon. Still, she took a moment to appreciate the imp-like creature Honoka became, hiking the shorts further up so the legs didn’t drag on the ground, absently running a finger along purple horns spearing out of her head.

“Aaaah!!” Dolly cried, bending her body violently as she covered rounding ears. Her body completely covered itself in fur. Specifically, black fur with golden spots, over all her skin instead of only her feline parts and mane. A blond white human Quinn hung onto lowered hips of the ottertaur, whispering soothingly as Dolly came to grips with the sudden influx of sound. And she wasn’t bending over entirely because of the hearing.

“Come on! I wanted those tasty tits!”

Honoka was torn, taking a few steps back to get both women into her line of sight. Those tasty tits, as Miaka called them, were the expanding fur covered mammaries swelling upon Dolly’s chest. And swelling wasn’t doing the visual justice. Combining Quinn’s twenty-eight Charisma with Banda’s twenty inches (51 cm) on top of the cheetaur’s already significant G cups, they were bludgeoned into the later half of the alphabet. Even as Dolly calmed down and adjusted to beastkin hearing - her back adding a few more points of Strength to hold those boulders up - it was obvious the weight of Dolly’s giant knockers passed a hundred pounds (45.4 kg). With her elongated otter abdomen, there was a visible effort to keep from tipping over.

Miaka, on the other hand, hulked out in the best possible way. Unlike when Honoka or one of the other girls gained excess Strength, Miaka’s Race placed emphasis on the upper arms and back so that her flight capabilities remained the most benefited. As she stretched more than three feet taller (91 cm), the newly christened holsyaon became top heavy in a way completely different than Dolly. Her bright red feathers dulled and took on a brownish-reddish hue, but underneath there was no hiding trapezius muscles growing larger, rising higher than Miaka’s blue pixie hair, completely swallowing her neck and threatening to do the same to her head. Bones creaked when shoulders widened to accommodate the muscling mass, deltoids and lats chiseling into proportions from Bugs Bunny cartoons featuring the Crusher. Her waist and lower body also bulked, but not nearly to the proportions of her upper body, shaping her into a feathered muscle tornado.

“[This is so…owie! How does Banda deal with this much boob?]” Understandably, even though she was no longer in as much pain, Dolly spoke so softly only Honoka’s boosted Perception allowed her to hear what the ottertaur said. As Dolly spoke, her otter mouth - which was more human shaped than Quinn’s lovable anthro face - kept opening and closing, as the young woman adjusted to a muzzle instead of a mouth. She was also attempting to heft the nearly two hundred pounds (90.7 kg) of titties with her paws, the shear size and floppy nature of breasts making it difficult to hold them in place. It was like trying to keep a pair of full waterbed bladders from sloshing out of control and Dolly’s efforts were about to fling her to the ground.

“Here, I’ll hold them for you!” Miaka yelled, though she immediately winced and ducked in shame, motioning that she was sorry to Dolly as the young hunter covered her ears again. Didn’t stop the over eight foot tall (244 cm) mountain from clomping over - her taloned feet now having small long hooves on the end of each of her long toes, and it was the most wrong thing Honoka had seen yet with allocation weirdness - and grabbing those tits to mash them together. Miaka went in for the motorboat, but she stopped herself when she remembered her beak was now as large and wide as a tucan’s while also owning a pair of small horns from her temples.

“I assume there’s some sorta’ve plan fer all this swappin’?” Quinn did not appear well, her human pale skin both flushed and pale, her hands holding tight to Dolly for support (and maybe copping a little feel here and there). “Dag blastin’ preggin’ super sickness! Now I’m missin’ all my bonuses, I feel like I’m swimmin’ in mud while I got the flu!”

“Yes…the plan…” Watching Miaka and Dolly fight over who could maul who’s boobs more - Dolly might have all the size, but the ottertaur quickly learned Miaka had the teats, sensitivity and lactation of Banda - was beyond erotic for the tiny woman, idly pinching her own nipples. Shaking her head to get back to business, Honoka pulled up Status windows to banish the horny from her system.

“Here’s the Allocation Breakdown.” Honoka announced, her head clearing abnormally quickly with all the extra Attributes boosting her focus. “Miaka is on point, which is why she has most of Banda along with Quinn’s Agility. This should be enough muscle and speed to handle any traps we find. Dolly will be rearguard with enough Dexterity, Perception and everything else from Quinn to fire arrows that could save Miaka if we get into trouble. Sorry, Cheetara, Banda’s boobs needed to go somewhere and the added weight might slow Miaka down for a deadly couple of seconds.

“I’m rocking succoblin to consolidate their Attributes, though I’m also taking Banda and Quinn’s Wisdom and Intelligence to minimize my MP drain. I’ve also never delved before, thinking goblin regen is a smart move for me. I’m not sure how a long snake tail will work in a tight trap room so I’m leaving Padmava in reserve for now.”

Studying critically how Dolly handled her breasts (an erotic display but a poor performance), Honoka pursed her lips and allocated six Strength from Padmava to Dolly, her muscles rippling underneath the fur as the young woman breathed a sigh of relief, giving a webbed pawed thumbs up. Honoka immediately scrunched her face in pain, the headache sharp and fierce at this point from overusing Status.

“One thing is for sure, we all need an allocation boot camp soonest,” Miaka announced, walking around and gathering everyone’s discarded clothing, figuring rightly that none of the girls were fitting into much of anything at this point. “I mean, I’ve felt a little muscle and size allocation before, but that otter hearing would be a killer at the wrong moment if the girl was not used to it.”

“When I get home, I’m gonna eat an entire peach cobbler then throw it up,” Quinn mused without sequitur, snuggling deeper into Dolly’s thick fur.

Laughing together, the group checked their weapons and rolled out, secretly hoping Quinn would make enough cobbler for everyone.

********************

“Run faster!”

Honoka bit off a response to that helpful advice because running from death was more important than sarcasm. Both arms pumping for all their worth, her stubby legs digging into the metal grating for all they were worth - shorts and jockstrap long ago burned away from a waterfall of acid three rooms back - she didn’t possess breath in her lungs to do anything more than huff and puff. Honoka would have laughed if everything wasn’t so dire: the only clothing that survived the six trap rooms they passed through was her belt holding her sword and gun. This perilous predicament left her only one more tangled sheath in legs moment away from falling to her death. In fact, Honoka was using the novel idea of wrapping her tail around the sword and Beast to keep them from flopping around while tucking her wings around her neck like a cape. Unfortunately, those wings lacked the necessary support for her other unsecured assets. Without noted support, Honoka was smacked in the chin with each frantic running step as her breasts pummeled her to death. The sensation was intoxicatingly pleasurable, but she didn’t need the distraction.

Behind her, collapsing faster than she could outrun it, the rusty floor plating fell away into an endless blackness while the walls fired annoying poison darts.

“Hand me the pliers, I almost got it!” Quinn frantically yelled, standing on Dolly’s shoulders with her arm in a hole in where the TC for this room was located. Dolly absently did so, then fired seven arrows into the air faster than a full auto machine gun. Honoka couldn’t see what they hit, but as they whizzed around her each of those arrows clanged with impact, likely taking out a flurry of poison darts before they hit delicate goblin skin.

“Forty more yards (36.6 m), Honoka!” Miaka stood at the doorway, looking through to the next room and trying to stay aware of extra surprises. “Just…oh crap!”

*ggggrrrrrrrRRREEEEE!!*

Honoka saw it, a large plate of the ceiling above the door moving downward in a steady pace to trap them here, rusty screeching lowering the slab of iron downward quickly. Miaka could get through, but the other three wives didn’t have a chance before it closed them off. No chance of surviving after that.

With a bit of the fastest math she ever crunched, based on what dimensions Honoka guessed, iron weighing a little less than five hundred pounds (226.8 kg) per square foot (929 sq cm), the plate weighed around 35,000 pounds, which was more than all her allocated Strength could handle. However, at the speed it dropped there must be gears and a counterweight. Crossing mental fingers, Honoka fought through the headache and hoped Miaka figured it out.

“Aaah!” The owl-cow woman arched her back as she shot up another four feet (122 cm) and gained nearly two thousand more pounds of muscle (907.2 kg). It happened so quickly a cloud of feathery down surrounded Miaka for a moment, her grow causing patches of molting as her body tried to keep up with the mass increase. Staring up at the plate with trepidation, Miaka hyperventilated and stepped forward. “This is insane!”

Stooping in a squatting crouch and pushing hands upward, the massive woman caught the falling iron and slowed it. Unable to stop it, inching closer downward to killing all of them, Miaka adjusted her footing as she put her back into it, large beak opening up in a roar and her entire body bulging, thick veins visible through her molted feathery down.

Two more inches. An inch.

With the most impressive display of Plus Ultra, Miaka stopped the plate from moving, her entire frame trembling with effort.

“Got it!” Quinn cried, yanking a crystal the size of her head out of the hole and dropping into Dolly’s arms. The ottertaur didn’t waste words, galloping around the corner and ducking under the gap to the next room.

The last ten yards (9.1 m) were agony for Honoka. Not because they were painful, but because Miaka made it clear with her gaze she would rather die than leave Honoka behind. One talon, likely slick with sweat, lost her grip, dropping the iron down onto Miaka’s shoulders, about to crush her. However, her hand now free, Miaka stretched and grabbed Honoka at the final moment, pulling her through. Honoka’s succubus tail narrowly missed the crushing, clanging metal as they both collapsed onto the plated floor and gasped for air.

“…huh…huh…” Honoka couldn’t catch her breath, the metal so cool and soothing against her skin. Rust and dirt be darned, she lay on her back and enjoyed the pleasant little tingle in her back as her wings cramped and made a compelling case why Diane disliked Missionary. “…you gals…do this…all the time?”

“…nah.” Dolly also gasped wearily, but less from exertion and more from adrenaline. “Stuff like this is cake walking. Sometimes we pick jobs that are challenging.”

“My bad,” Quinn said absently, turning over the green glowing TC in her hand and taking the thaumian reader from Dolly’s pack, something akin to a voltage tester. “Didn’t think the dungeon would move routes on us, mind was workin’ slow from allocation. Goin’ between Floors isn’t supposed ta be this bad here. Should’ve listened ta Miaka: she has the Taurine dungeon direction sense.”

“Didn’t know that’s what it was.” Miaka’s voice was deep and velvety, her large beak adding a small echo. Currently, she took half the floor space in the room, her body probably requiring a permit at this point to operate in city limits. “Thought it was intuition. Yet another reason for Allocation Bootcamp.”

Honoka rolled her head, discovering a set of stairs leading downward and nodding to herself, fighting the headache and setting all the allocations to zero. Yelps and cries went around as everyone transformed back to their normal selves. The loudest emerged from Honoka when she felt pain again and curled into a ball, coming to grips with some acid burns on her legs. They weren’t bad, no worse than a sunburn at this point, but suddenly feeling them was a shock to her system. When Honoka returned to the dungeon floor, she was held by Quinn and Honoka’s heart eased within the comfort of that soft, dark fur.

“What’s next?” Honoka said, standing yet still holding Quinn, unwilling to stop huggles at the moment.

“Down those stairs and across a blisteringly cold tundra.” Dolly unloaded the large rolls of winter clothing from her back, setting them down and cutting the twine. “I’ve never been down there, but Miaka has.”

“Selling Ice Wasp venom to alchemists is like minting gold coins, and the deadly buggers are only found on 272.” The kikiyaon pinched a bicep wistfully, missing the extra muscles already. “If scrambling into their hives wasn’t a death sentence, more people would be here: need a fully equipped raid group to attack a hive. I’ve never visited the honey farm, but I’ve seen the signs on the Floor. We should make it in a half hour, tops.” Looking at Honoka holding Quinn, the kikiyaon leered and came over, running a feathered arm lightly against Honoka’s very erect cock. “Or should we take a short break?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Honoka jumped away even as her hips pulled forward, her penile instincts trying to find a willing hole amid all these sexy ladies. The disjoint of her body sprawled her on the floor, moaning from all the small injuries that hadn’t had a chance to finish healing from goblin regeneration. The other girls laughed and helped her up, each of them getting some choice words that only brought more laughter.

And no, sexy time could wait, despite what the Beast wanted. The group threw on as many thermals, jackets, blankets and fur rugs as they could each carry or strap onto their body before descending the stairs to the lower Floor. At first, all four women grew very sweaty under the layers, but it wasn’t long before they chattered teeth as the temperature dropped below zero and kept falling. When they reached 272, the cold was debilitating with a strong, swirling gust causing the group of wives to pause and peer at the desolation before them.

This would have been a perfect time for a quip, but the expanse of white and rock and ice left everyone too depressed and cold to say anything. And Quinn would have been the only one to hear anything anyway, the wind a loud banshee wailing death and frostbite. What they spied past flurry of whiteness was mostly flat, with jagged bumps occasionally opening into black caverns leading below into icy, unknown depths.

Miaka, holding one of her glowing battle rods, walked over to the left of the stairs and whacked a seemingly random piece of ice. A dozen love taps and the ice broke away, revealing a worn metal sign with a blue striped bee painted on it and an arrow pointing towards a trail of ice further to the left. Without needing to say anything, the hunched birdwoman gathered her coverings closer and trudged down the indicated road, the others following close behind.

It didn’t take long in actual time, but it felt like an eternity. Two more signs later, the group was standing in front of what looked like another rocky cave entrance, but this one possessed a massive antenna out front. About five feet (152 cm) into the cave, a bunker-style steel door hidden under a foot (30 cm) of snow and ice. Above the door, the same blue striped bee was partially visible under a dim lamp. It took a few minutes, but after breaking off a sheet of ice to the right of the door with her rod, Miaka pressed a button underneath a speaker.

“[What?]”

The wind was something fierce and no one heard the voice crackling over the speaker. No one, except for Quinn. Moving to the front, the beastkin pushed the button and held it down as indicated next to the speaker, then screamed as loud as she could. “We want to talk ‘bout buyin’ some honey!”

“[I only deal with licensed distributors and you aren’t Benson. Stop bugging me.]”

Quinn turned to Honoka, about to explain when the black woman held up her hand, her eye twitching from allocating fifteen Perception, enough to catch most of the response through the storm. Moving forward, Honoka pushed her numb gloved fingers hard against the button. “Have you sold a lot more honey this month compared to other months!?”

“[…yes.]”

“That’s us!” Honoka was thinking fast, attempting to figure how to get inside rather than talk in the cold. “We want to buy a lot more honey! If possible, we can trade in potions or holstaur milk!”

“[You’re the source of the milk upstairs? Hmm…]”

The next few minutes brought the wives to the edge of hypothermia as they waited. Honoka knew saying anything more might ruin the deal, stomping her feet to try and feel them again. When it reached the point where the cold forced them to call it quits, a loud buzzer rang and the door cracked open, ice splinters flying everywhere and startling the girls. Feeling a rush of warm air with it, the four gladly ducked inside and sighed in tingling relief. Not that the room roughly the size of a college dorm was actually warmer, only around thirty degrees (-1 C). Compared to outside, it was a sauna. The room was completely bare, one door on the opposite wall of the door outside and then a smaller door to the right side. Each door was the same heavy steel, but the one opposite had a camera and speaker above it.

The most unsettling part, to Honoka’s increased Perception and sharing a grim look with Quinn, was that the door to the side had some deep, powerful buzzing coming from the other side. This wasn’t an entryway, this was a kill box.

“I don’t like being lied to.” When the voice spoke over the speaker, the door leading outside closed and bolted shut, unlikely to open with anything short of C4. “I see a lot of interesting Races in here, but none of you look like holstaurs to me.”

“Wasn’t lying, Banda Longhat’s back at home, probably watching a movie with singing and princesses by now.” Honoka threw Miaka a sidelong look, glancing at the buzzing door. Miaka leaned over, her eyes widening when she heard it, shaking her head very slightly as she motioned between the two doors. “I guess you have DiFi access down here with that antenna outside. She’s the niece of Cholena Longhat, owner of the Boston Dairy.”

“[If she opens that door and we can’t get out, we are dead. Ice Wasps are no joke.]” Miaka whispered, Honoka barely catching the warning even with her Perception.

“I don’t see anything about a Banda Longhat, but you’re right about Cholena.” Now that there was no wind and a better speaker inside the room, Honoka could tell the voice was female, though it sounded warped in some way, like speaking with something stuck in her mouth. “Just means you came prepared. Only it doesn’t fit. By all accounts on the message boards, the amount of milk sold in Harvardtown amounts to a small dairy, not one heifer.”

Honoka pursed her lips. How paranoid can one girl be? The futa was cold, horny and now worried she was about to die by giant bee stings. Reason never works with crazy, only more crazy would work. Which is when she got a crazy idea.

“You’re correct, there’s a secret to it,” Honoka announced, sighing dramatically and pushing the hood of her coat up. “Banda is a member of our guild, but she’s not the only one getting milked. Dolly, could you hand me one of the holstaur potions?”

Dolly, bless her heart, didn’t understand immediately and almost flubbed the touchdown in the ninth inning. Then when she figured it out, the cheetaur’s face smiled and practically Kronked it up by saying Oh riiight, the potion, the potion for Honoka, the potion chosen specially to allocate Honoka, Honoka’s potion.

“This potion?” Dolly asked, holding out the vial of water Honoka saw earlier at FDR.

“Yes,” Honoka replied too eagerly, wondering why in the world she was stuck in a universe where a lie was about to make more sense than the truth. Shucking out of clothing and weapons, Dolly and Miaka took it upon themselves to hold up a large blanket to protect Honoka’s modesty. Honoka didn’t really care, naked was becoming her zen, but she wouldn’t begrudge her wives for doing it either. Grinning, Honoka held up the vial of water dramatically and gulped it down. She immediately bent over a little, looking like she was gagging but in reality suffering the effects of a massive Status migraine as she dialed up Banda and went all in. She also made sure to add another six Strength from Padmava and six more from Diane, thinking if things went sideways she would just toro the door open like a mad bull.

Boobs and muscles really were Honoka’s top fetishes. Which one was more loved than the other, Honoka had no idea, they were tied for first place. Second place was a solid giantess growth with strange and interesting Racial monster girls a close third. Those four all combined in Banda and Honoka actually thanked God every night before going to bed to live a life surrounded by women who all exemplified those traits while possessing a Class allowing her to experience it anew each time she allocated. There was no question among the wives that Honoka loved each one of them as a person, thinking them all beautiful and doing her utmost to treat each wife with respect, love, tender care and equal passion.

However, they also weren’t blind or stupid. They knew which wife ticked all of Honoka’s boxes. The fact Banda was such an adorable sweetheart the only reason jealous bullying hadn’t exploded into the family. That, and the knowledge that each wife was only a few Harmony points away from being the next big girl on campus.

The wives didn’t see Banda’s physical assets as unreachable ideals. They saw them as hurdles to jump over.

“This never gets old,” Honoka whispered, her vascular system churning into overdrive and blowing up all over her body, the burgeoning and bulging of her mass swolling far beyond human capacity and building into the framework of muscled perfection Honoka knew as a holstaur woman. Shoulders grew out proportionally wider, those clavicles and scapulas far thicker to hold up meaty deltoids and trapezius muscles. Pectorals fought each other to see which would grow more over a ribcage that could now fit a heart and lungs capable of powering such a massive engine of throbbing destruction. It was enough to cream Honoka right there if the Beast hadn’t shrunk then disappeared already.

While Honoka reveled in breasts filling with hot, frothing milk, she noticed a few other things from the last time she spent any real time as a holstaur. First, her muscles bulged far larger than normal, making it difficult to move. This was expected, and she should have grabbed more Agility to counter it, but her headache said this was going to be her limit for at least an hour. And she would have played with her new and large tits more - to heck with a voyeuristic watching beekeeper - but said tits kept on growing and growing. They passed what Honoka knew was a normal R to T sized range and only stopped on the other side of Z. Reaching up, they felt abnormally heavy, even with all the Strength pumping in her arms. Confused, Honoka realized what the problem was as she felt a pressure building up behind her swollen teats, each one aching with a painful need to express milk.

It is like when I allocate as a succubus, Honoka realized, poking the hamster in her brain to run the wheel. Every allocation is stored in some kind of metaphorical closet when I’m not using them. When I’m using a particular Race or even Racial Feature, it accumulates or expends the particular energy of that Race during allocation. For instance, when I’m a succubus, I require sexual energy to fill my hunger. When I’m a holstaur, my tits fill with milk. Guess all the time has added up.

Holding up her arms in a devastating flex of both her guns, Honoka let the other wives wrap the blanket around her like a towel and then put on a few more coverings to keep warm. “Satisfied? If you want a free taste test, you’ll have to hurry and let us in before the potion wears off.”

“信じられない.”

Honoka blinked, wondering what in the wide wide world of sports was a Japanese phrase of disbelief coming from out of that speaker above the door. Before she could say anything, Honoka tensed as another buzzer sounded off and the door in front of them opened on silent hinges. Puffing out a nervous breath, Honoka shrugged and led the way further into the bunker, the other wives following, everyone relieved they wouldn’t be dealing with monster wasps for the moment.